Hermione J Lupin
by TheQuestionIsAlwaysMangoes
Summary: Werewolf!Hermione was found by the order when she was little and was raised by Remus Lupin. Snape is not pleased. I might finish it...
1. Beginning

Beginning

Hermione Granger had spent the last thirteen hours, twenty-eight minutes wandering around in the forest trying to find somewhere to sleep for the night. She knew she was somewhere in the Forest of Dean where they had been camping, but beyond that, she could not recall anything that'd happened before she'd woken up and found the bloody masses that were once her parents. There had been strange cuts all over her body, and _all_ of her muscles were sore, if that was possible. She only continued because she knew, despite being only four years old, that she would soon die if she didn't find food and shelter, and Hermione Granger was _not_ going to die before she'd had the chance to change the world.

She _refused_.

Suddenly, her head snapped up from where she had been watching her step. She could hear someone coming.

That was something new.

Not possible, however, as one did not simply develop superhuman senses over the course of a day. No, something definitely did not add up, and she was intrigued.

Now she could smell the person. It _had_ to be a man, as no self-respecting woman would ever let themselves stink _that_ badly, especially not of blood—he smelled of _blood!_ And something that she somehow knew meant danger.

This was not a man she wanted to meet, not under any circumstances.

She weighed her options and decided to climb the tree, thinking that it would be better to hide than to run. If this man had senses like she did, he already knew where she was and was coming for her. If not, she could always follow his scent and find shelter that way. Once she decided she was high enough, she slowed down her breathing like when she played hide-and-seek and made sure to keep very still.

The man—if you could call him that—came into view soon enough, slinking into the clearing she overlooked before. He stopped turning his monstrous head toward the sky, sniffing the air. The man was practically danger incarnate, from the horrid smell to the wicked claws to the pointed teeth, and reminded her more of a wolf than of a man, even more terrifying in the haunting moonlight. His hair was long and wild and he was covered in blood, the substance even running down his chin as if he'd spent the day feeding on human flesh…

Dear God. Could that be her parent's blood?

She almost gasped, but instead forced herself to calm down. Her parents had always told her that dogs could smell fear, and surely wolves weren't that different?

"I know you're there, girl, why don't you come out from wherever you are and we can have a nice, long chat?" The man growled in a low fierce rumble of a voice, his tone severely contradicting his words.

Hermione forced her breathing to remain the same and tried to commit the terrifying man's face to memory so that she could draw a decent picture for the police later. She _would_ make it through this, if only to someday get revenge on this _beast_. She pictured a blank piece of paper in her mind and committed the man to mental paper, starting with his face, hair, arms, torso, as he slowly turned in circles, eyeing the bushes around him, looking for movement.

He was growling in the back of his throat, becoming frustrated, when out of nowhere, several more scents were introduced to the mix as a bunch of men appeared, surrounding the man, then, just as quickly, all of them yelled a funny word and long rays of red light flew from the sticks each of them held and hit the monstrous man!

He fell to the ground, still.

Dead?

The men waited a moment before one of them, a very intelligent looking man, stepped forward, slowly, and poked the beast.

It didn't move.

He felt it's pulse.

"He's dead." The man spoke solemnly.

"Sad, are you Lupin?"

"Only that I have to endure your presence, dear Snivilus."

"Quit flirting, you two." A large, dark-skinned man commanded. "Snape, you and Weasley look around and see if you can find any survivors. He was looking for someone, send a Patronus—"

"I'm up here!" Hermione called down, mouth acting before the rest of her brain could catch up.

The one who'd poked the monster (Lupin was it?) automatically looked up. She committed his face to memory, crossing out the monster's and drawing his on the other side. After all, there was no point in wasting paper, mental or otherwise.

She jumped from the tree, knowing instinctually that she would be able to land the fall, and carefully approached the monster on the ground. One of the men moved to stop her, but Lupin held up his hand, stopping the other in his tracks. She stared down at him and sniffed, looking for her mother's stronger scent.

She found it.

Hermione felt herself growling and furiously kicked him in the head.

"You," Kick, "Deserved," Kick, "Worse!"

 _Big_ kick. Then she spat on him and turned away from the monster, instead facing Mr. Lupin.

"Are you like me?" she asked bluntly, staring him down.

He didn't say anything, but now stood a meter or so away from her, not moving forward, but raising his chin slightly, holding her gaze. She eyed him carefully, sniffing the air as she did, separating his own sent from the rest.

Most prominently, he smelled like books, not unlike the old library around the corner from her house, mixed with the faint stink of fire and dog fur. In her mind, she acknowledged the scars on his face, his steady breathing and his own aura of danger, not the kind the beast possessed, but the type her father gave off when she told him about one of the neighbor's kids pulling her hair, or that one time when the burglar had tried to get into the house. Protectiveness, she decided it was. He was safe.

Almost as soon as she had come to this conclusion, she found herself lowering her chin, but still looking up at the man. He took a few steps forward and knelt in front of her opening his arms and pulling her close. She buried her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around his neck, taking several deep breaths to keep herself from crying.

"It's alright Cub, you're safe now." She felt him whisper into her hair, and she fell asleep.

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What the hell had he just done? Established some sort of dominance over a newly made werewolf cub in the middle of the forest after she'd watched him and a few others kill Fenrir Greyback—whom she'd just witnessed literally tear her family apart, if that reaction was anything to go by—had he just accidentally claimed her? Well, he couldn't exactly let her go now, could he? Crap! Was she going to cry now? How the hell was he supposed to deal with this? He quickly steadied his breathing, now knowing she would smell his fear if he let her.

Remus took a few long strides forward and fell to his knees, pulling her into a hug. He could feel her melt, hugging him back and trying desperately not to cry. Doing the first thing he could think of, he started whispering like James' mum used to when they had nightmares. "It's alright Cub, you're safe now."

Cub? Where in Merlin's name had that come from? Well, it kept her from collapsing to tears, so he couldn't really complain. He was about to let her go when he realized that she'd fallen asleep and instead picked her up.

The rest of his companions who had watched silently up to this point were now staring at him, wide eyed, jaws dropped. Dedalus Diggle of all people was the first to ask, in his usual unfiltered manner.

"Did you just adopt a werewolf?"

"I-I have absolutely no idea."

The group fell into silence once more, before Kingsley sighed. "Does anybody else feel like we just _saved_ that man?"

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As soon the men arrived back at the burrow, Molly Weasley was all over them, hurling a barrage of questions, but was almost immediately silenced by the sight of the little girl Remus held. Small, sleeping, and she was covered in blood.

The mother in her immediately took over, having Remus lay her down on the couch and whipping out her wand. Now she ignored the men, healing the cuts and scrapes and fixing up the little girl's clothes. Only after she was satisfied that the girl was comfortable did she ask who the girl was.

Arthur, considering Lupin, who still hadn't taken his eyes off the girl, pulled Molly into the kitchen, explaining quickly, but in great detail what had happened in the exchange between him and the girl.

"So she's—"

"Yes."

"Is he keeping her?"

"I don't know. From the way he acts, it's almost as if he has no choice in the matter."

"Well, I certainly hope—" Molly was cut off by the arrival of the twins in the doorway, both looking wide awake and _very_ curious.

"Mum, Dad?" Fred, or maybe George asked.

"What's going on?" the other finished.

"Nothing to worry about, dears…" But it was too late. The pair had ducked their parent's arms in a mad dash passed them and were already standing a few feet away from the couch, inspecting the girl. Remus was watching them warily, knowing what kind of trouble these two got up to, but keeping his distance unless they posed a threat.

"Aw! It's just a girl!"

"We thought it was going to be something cool—"

"Like a dragon!"

The adults in the room, just the Weasleys and Lupin at this point, tried to shush him, but it was too late. The girl woke with a growl, shutting them up in an instant. They all held their breath as she warily took in her surroundings, and seeing Remus, yipped, relaxed, yawned, and fell back to sleep.

The boys turned their attention to the now considerably more relaxed Remus and asked, "Did she just…"

" _Bark?"_

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By the time Hermione went to Hogwarts, she was known throughout the school as the girl who tamed the Weasley twins. Rumors spread by Charlie and Percy said that she was incredible—a model student, good girl on her way to being a model citizen. All of the professors eagerly awaited the start of the semester.

Well, all barring Snape, of course.

Professor Snape was one of the six people that were there that night she was found. A muggleborn witch-made-werewolf and raised by his own werewolf nemesis. On top of that, the famous son of the girl he loved and another of his old tormentors was enrolled as well. Could anyone blame him for not looking forward to this year?

He kept his usual straight face and rigid posture as he took his place at the staff table. Near immediately after, Minerva arrived, leading in the first-years to start the sorting. The hat sang it's song and they were off. He kept a watchful eye on Quirrel, and was hearing lots of familiar surnames this year, Bones, Crabbe, Goyle, Greengrass, Longbottom, and—

"Lupin, Hermione?"

Snape looked away from Quirrel to see the girl, after all, it had been seven years since he'd last seen her, all covered in blood.

She had definitely grown, now level with most other first years. The wild curls had grown out, and her eyes hadn't lost any of that fire. She had that same aura about her as her adopted father; dangerously intelligent, and intelligently dangerous. He wasn't sure if it was a trait she had always possessed or if it was something she picked up from the old wolf, but he could clearly see that it was going to be a pain.

Then he noticed that she was watching him. In that split second of eye contact, she raised her chin, just as Remus had done when they found her, simultaneously managing to convey both a challenge, and respect. He rose to it, lifting his own chin.

Of all possible responses, she _winked_.

What in Merlin's name…

Triumphantly she sat, the hat was place on her head and held his breath.

Gryffindor…Ravenclaw… _Please_ don't say…

But it wasn't meant to be.

"SLYTHERIN!"

His head was in his hands as she sauntered over to his table. Snape could practically _feel_ the shock rolling across the room, a chorus of WHAT came from all Weasleys, and the Slytherin house was silent.

Good God, this was going to be a _nightmare._


	2. And then

In all honesty, Hermione was not the least bit surprised to find herself in Slytherin, just a bit disappointed that nobody else saw it coming. Already, she was determined to be the very best of her house, if not her year—but that was for tomorrow. Tonight; food.

Wonderful as it was, Hermione would rather have been home with Remus. She hadn't wanted to come to Hogwarts, but Remus knew she would've regretted not taking her only real chance at a formal education, and he was right. All around, she heard intelligent conversations (the subjects of which she filed away for later fact-checking) and opinions she'd never heard. She was listening so hard that she didn't hear someone call her name.

"Lupin-Lupin is it? I've heard that name before, what exactly are you?" An almost sickly looking boy, Malfoy she remembered, was attempting to get her attention.

"Oh, hello. I might be mistaken, but I believe the term is _witch_. Why, are you something different?" She asked, not totally paying attention.

"I'm a pureblood of course!" He bragged.

"A pureblood what? That doesn't tell me anything!" She exclaimed, "I thought we were talking sub-species and here you go straight out with the DNA? I have neither the time nor patience to examine that, and I just laid my own aside and went for the root of it all, and I would appreciate if you would do the same."

"Wizard—what else would I be?"

"How am I supposed to know? You brought it up!"

By now they had caught the attention of those around them. A few snickered at the way she had turned the question around on Malfoy. He had been annoying them for most of the meal so far, but now he was getting it back just as bad.

"Blood, I mean. Your blood."

"Oh, God knows, I was adopted."

"Adopted?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, adopted." Officially bored with the conversation, Hermione dug into her meal, eating just as politely as ravenously, just as Remus taught her.

"You eat a lot." Malfoy observed.

The glare she turned on him had a few of the other boys around wincing. Even the stupidest of them all knew never to comment on something like that.

"What were you, raised in a barn? _Mr. Pureblood!_ Ha! It makes sense that you would boast of that because from where I'm sitting, you've got nothing else going for you. I was going to hold my tongue, but really, you do not ask virtual _strangers_ such personal questions and expect straight answers. I can't decide whether you're socially inept or simply arrogant enough to think you'll get away with being an absolute…" She trailed off and took a deep breath. "My point is; you cannot claim to be superior if you do not act accordingly. If you must boast, then do something worth boasting of. And please, leave me alone if you decide otherwise. My temper will only hold out for so long and I absolutely _refuse_ to deal with this for another minute, much less another seven years."

This outburst earned a round of applause from those elder students from before, and a flabbergasted look from Malfoy. He sputtered a bit, but was too intimidated by the stern look on this _eleven-year-old's_ face. It reminded him much too much of his mother after he'd accidentally offended the Minister's wife at their last house party, and he definitely not looking for a repeat of _that_ experience. Defeated, he slunk back over to the boys he'd stood with before the sorting.

This was not the end of that, Hermione could smell the humiliation from here. Maybe she'd started off on the wrong foot with her own yearmates, but she did still have a chance with the others.

"I'm sorry that you had to witness that, but surely you understand why it was necessary?"

"Understand? I've been itching to do the same since the sorting," a dark skinned girl commented from across the table. She held out a hand to shake. "My name's Alfredia Shacklebolt, second year."

"Cloetta Arletti," introduced the blonde girl next to her.

"Francis Mowery."

"Hermione Lupin. It's a pleasure to meet you all. By any chance do you know what Dumbledore meant with the third floor corridor?"

And they were off.

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The next morning was…an experience. She had been greeted with silver hair when she looked in the mirror, no doubt courtesy of the Weasley boys as a welcome gift, as was their signature with her. It was the only prank she would tolerate before violent retaliation—unless she didn't like the color, as was occasionally the case. Once she got down to breakfast, she demanded hugs, earning a crude comment that made her slap Fred upside the head before she made her way back to the Slytherin table.

"Nice hair— "Alfredia started, only to be immediately cut off by her friend.

"You know the Weasleys?" asked Cloetta as she sat down.

"No, I just hug random gingers and hope for the best. Where are your brothers, I'll try them too!"

"How do you know them?" asked Francis, wrinkling his nose.

"Dunno, always have. Smell something, do you Mowery?"

"I don't know why you chose those two. Charlie's hotter."

Hermione let out a chuckle. "The twins are more _fun_."

"I will just pretend I didn't hear that, Miss Lupin. Your schedule…" Snape tossed it onto the table in front of her and kept on down the line before she could thank him.

"What in Merlin's name was that response!"

Hermione shrugged and smirked, scanning the bit of parchment in front of her. Charms, Transfiguration and Flying Lessons today, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Astrology tomorrow. This could be interesting.

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Her classes were slow and, having already memorized her textbooks, Hermione was incredibly bored. Luckily she'd brought her sketchbook, and spent the duration finishing her latest.

The drawing was of the front of her home, an old barn in a forest, not far from the Weasleys, but far enough that everyone was safe during the full moon. In the surrounding trees, the waxing crescent was visible and shed an eerie light on the old barn and the smoke coming from the makeshift chimney in the back. It wasn't much, and it had scared her at first, but the inside was deceptively comfortable, the loft having been converted to a bedroom and each of the old stalls was made into a library or three, a kitchen, a potion room, and a pair of safe rooms for the moons, a bathroom, a supply room, and a bedroom for her. One would think it was haunted, had they not been inside.

But that's not important now.

Flying Lessons.

Before she'd discovered brooms, she had absolutely _despised_ heights but now, after realizing through much trial and error that falling wouldn't hurt her, she couldn't care less. At home, she used Bill's old broom to play Quidditch with the boys when they needed an extra, and was used to the whole thing. She couldn't speak for the rest of her year. Not surprisingly, Malfoy actually seemed to be the only one besides herself and Ron who knew how to fly, and Ron was more interested in the statistics for Quidditch than actually playing, so he was much worse than she.

The first hitch in her plan to lie low had been the explosion at Malfoy. The second was when a Gryffindor boy accidentally took off and ran into the castle a few times before falling and plummeting towards the ground.

Hermione sprinted towards where he would land and, since nobody else seemed inclined to help, she quickly cast the cushioning charm Remus used to use when she was learning to fly, and saved him from a nasty injury.

"Are you alright?" she asked, helping him up.

"I-I think s-so…" Shell-shocked, he patted his arms and legs, wincing when he moved his shoulder. Madame Hooch, the flying instructor rushed over to examine him, and upon discovering his hurt shoulder, elected to take him to the Hospital Wing.

"I'll see you in my office after class, Miss Lupin."

"Yes, Madame Hooch." She responded, rolling her eyes when she wasn't looking. Yet another "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation. It was becoming a trend.

As soon as Hooch and the boy were out of view, Malfoy decided to be an arse and picked up something the boy had dropped.

"What's this?" He asked, probably rhetorically, knowing him. "A Rememberall?"

"Give it here Malfoy." Ordered another Gryffindor. Smelling the stupidity already, Hermione decided to sit this one out, pulling a ballpoint pen from her pocket and rolled up her sleeve beginning her first little tattoo of the year, ignoring the drama unfolding around her. Idiots.

A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall the Transfiguration professor came out to watch the remaining students and talk to the boy who'd stood up to Malfoy about giving him a position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Bloody typical.

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Over the course of the week, the incident had caught the attention of the rest of the staff who got in a heated debate over tea in the Lounge. All of them were aware that the Lupin girl was a lycanthrope, and that she was friends with the Twin Terrors, and by now that she was also very bright, but wandless magic? At _eleven?_ Preposterous.

"How would she have even learned wandless magic? Isn't Dumbledore the only one in Brittan- "

"Obviously, you have not met she or her father," Snape's voice sent silence through the room. "And had you been there the night we found her…you wouldn't be surprised either. They certainly think nothing of it."

"What do you mean _found_?" asked McGonagall.

But Quirinus Quirrell had just walked into the room, and Snape was out the door before any more could be asked.

"W-what did I m-miss?"

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To satisfy her need for intelligent conversation, Hermione had started to gather the students in her year that needed help with their classes and begun a study group, an idea that quickly gained popularity until, by Halloween, she had gained about thirty people, a spattering from each house and year that had gotten too wrapped up in some book or project and needed someone to revise their papers or look over their homework.

For this, she used an unoccupied classroom up on the fourth floor where they could be loud as they liked without causing too many issues. At first, it had just been herself and a few friends, the Weasley Twins, Neville Longbottom (the boy she'd saved with the cushioning charm), Cloetta, Francis, and Alfredia, but soon others, regardless of age gap were getting involved. By now, Hermione had memorized every textbook for every year and was just working on the practical application. Technically, she now had the knowledge to pass any exam put in front of her; information she was choosing not to disclose to the general public. Unfortunately, people were starting to notice.

People were noticing how seventh years were going to her for help and book recommendations, which the current top of their class, Charlie Weasley, appreciated immensely.

"I don't know how you manage it all," he'd commented once.

"Easy, I just never forget anything." She'd replied.

"I bet you don't…" He'd wandered off shaking his head.

She'd sighed. Wizards, in her experience, had never been able to grasp the idea of a photographic memory. It was easier for them to believe that she was just really smart and studied the harder parts of people's classes as they did, rather than her never forgetting in the first place. Even Remus struggled to accept it, though the truth was plainly obvious. That was alright though. She figured that if she trained more witches and wizards to cooperate with each other like her study group had been, the wizarding community might be all the better for it, so even if the only thing she learned in the next six years was how to teach, well, that was a good enough reason for her.

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Snape rolled his eyes as he followed the red-clad buffoon that was his responsibility clomp unceremoniously through the restricted section looking for information on Nicholas Flamel. As stupid as he was, the Potter boy had an impressive way of connecting seemingly random bits of information together into some semblance on an explanation. Between protecting Potter and Lupin from the Dark Lord, he was already planning his retirement.


	3. After that

Hermione got the anticipated warning from the twins three days before the first full moon of the school year, and the order to go ask Snape for help brewing the Wolfsbane potion until she could do it herself. She sighed as she waited to speak to him after class. Oh how she hated having to ask for help.

"Professor," she greeted.

"Miss Lupin?" He replied, not looking up.

"The full moon's in three days, will you help me brew the potion?"

At this he looked up.

"Lupin didn't send it to you?"

"We don't have an owl. They don't like us, understandably."

"Will this be a reoccurring issue?"

"Only until I learn to make it myself."

He regarded her carefully.

"Eight o'clock, Sunday morning. Be here five minutes later exactly or suffer through without it. I'm sure the wolf told you about the tree."

"I'll be here."

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The study group the previous night was an experience; a few people turned blue, and in the process of attempting to de-blueify them, she became a bit of a mess and fell into bed that night without getting cleaned up. Even after a shower in the morning, she arrived on time, carrying all of her potions supplies and papers she planned to grade later with her to Snape's classroom, tying up her disastrous, still-silver hair before she entered.

Inside, Snape seemed to be having a very intense staring contest with Draco Malfoy. The door slammed itself behind her before she could catch it, turning both gazes very firmly on herself. She gave an unapologetic shrug, and sat her stuff on a nearby desk.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Neither answered, and Malfoy stomped angrily out of the room.

"Well, that was dramatic."

"Why are you here?" Snape demanded.

"Wolfsbane? You told me to come at this time."

He made the equivalent of Remus's _Merlin help me find the will to live_ expressions and gestured to the door that didn't lead to his office.

"My lab is back here, set up at the empty workbench."

He watched carefully as she pulled out her _actual_ cauldron, ignoring the disastrous one she used for classes, washed her hands, scrubbed the entirety of the cauldron and the rest of her tools, and carefully washed and prepared each of her ingredients. He raised his eyebrows at the set of professional-grade dragonhide gloves that replaced her usual.

"What exactly do you need _help_ with?" he asked, accidentally letting his surprise at her professional routine show.

"It's mostly supervision at this point. Usually Lisa watches when I make this, but she's not here to correct the crap that could kill me, and she and Remus want me to do it perfectly thrice with supervision and be able to explain _all_ of it before I attempt it on my own."

"How many times have you made Wolvesbane, exactly?"

"I've been learning since I was eight, but I've been making octuple batches because there's eight of us. My problem comes from not remembering that there's only one of me that needs it here and we don't have the money to waste on failed attempts."

"Then you just need me to keep track of how much of something you've put in and make sure you don't revert half-way and kill yourself with a faulty potion?"

"Exactly."

And so it went. At some point she had almost done something horribly wrong, and he had had to intervene, but for the most part, it was a fairly pleasant experience—or as pleasant as it could be, considering who they were and the fact that they were literally preparing a potion to hopefully stop her accidentally killing everyone in the castle.

"I assume that your performance in class is some sort of act, then?" He asked, examining the finished product.

"What do you mean?" She asked, surprised at the question.

"The fact that you're currently brewing a very high level potion with relative ease, that whenever you help others their potions come out perfectly while yours tend to be mediocre at best. From your grades, I'd say you've been doing the same in the rest as well."

She cursed mentally. She'd hoped it would be awhile before anyone bothered her about doing better in classes. "Do you think anyone else is noticing?"

"What is there to notice?"

And so she told him about the study group and the others she was helping and being helped by and the social walls she was attempting to break.

"Ah, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"The other day, a large group of sixth year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins came in asking about part of a measurement conversion they didn't understand— "

"Milliliters to tablespoons?"

"Yes. I assume that you had something to do with that?"

"One of the younger muggleborn asked how wizarding measurements related to muggle measurements and was becoming very frustrated with inexact measurements for her potions. I thought it was interesting and wrote out a conversion chart that I saw once when Remus, Nate, and I went on a trip to muggle London. A lot of the older students didn't understand because they'd never heard of muggle measurements before, or cooked anything, and so didn't understand why he thought it was so important, so the next time we met, I set up a bunch of baking supplies and taught a bunch of witches and wizards how to do things the muggle way. It was fun for everyone, but a few didn't get it, so I told them to go ask someone who could explain it better. I didn't think they actually would, so I apologize if they bothered you."

"I'm glad that somebody is helping them learn to work with eachother. It's an issue that has caused a lot of unnecessary pain over the years."

"Yes, I'm hoping that they can continue collaborating with each other this way outside of school as well. It was such a pain to get them to cooperate, but now they're doing splendidly."

And thus began the mutually appreciated alliance between the pair of them. Snape would send problems her direction and she would fix them in return for increasingly frequent advanced potions lessons.

Even he will admit to being a bit wary at first, but years of being Dumbledore's double agent had taught him when not to get on someone's bad side and she was already getting to be one of those people you did not want to cross.

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For the first time, Hermione was regretting coming to Hogwarts. Not having Moony and the others around to distract her made this full moon significantly more painful. She was glad the twins were almost finished with their animagus transformations.

She groaned as she sat up in the uncomfortable hospital bed, getting started on which of the cuts and scrapes she _could_ heal and leaving the others for the twins and Madame Pomfrey.

It wasn't five minutes before she could hear the twins getting ready to sneak in. Fred set a massive block of chocolate on the bedside table and they each gave a quiet greeting before drawing their wands in an eerily coordinated way to get started on her back, as she couldn't see it.

"Sorry we weren't there for this one," George started.

"We'll be ready by the next moon."

"We almost had it for this one- "

"But we haven't been able to hold it a full night quite yet."

"Only off by an hour or two,"

"But it would only take a second to get bitten." Hermione finished. "It's fine guys, I get it. It took me months to get it more than an hour! You're fine."

George sighed and fixed a particularly deep set of scars a bit above her left hip. Of course, Madame Pomfrey chose that moment to walk in.

"What in Merlin's name are you two doing? Get away—"

"It's alright!" Hermione cut her off. "They've been healing me after moons for years!"

The medi-witches' eyes narrowed. "And your father knows about this?"

"My father is the one who put them at it!"

"Be that as it may, I reserve the right to supervise! And if I see anything _unprofessional…_ "

That comment cut off all attempts at conversation for the remainder of her stay—apart from slight adjustments the witch made to the twins' technique when she could find them, that is.

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Of course, her friends were suspicious when Hermione showed up at breakfast with the twins. Especially when they completely ignored the Gryffindor table and sandwiched her between them at the Slytherin.

" _What_ is going on here?" Cloetta wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at the trio, but obviously not expecting them to play along.

Both boys swung an arm around her shoulders and in a practiced motion, she simultaneously fed them each a grape, all three returning the eyebrow wiggle.

"What the—you're ELEVEN!" Francis sputtered.

Alfredia rolled her eyes. "They're just messing with you idiots. Obviously, they aren't doing that!"

She shot Hermione a wink that suggested that she knew the reason and would keep it to herself. She wasn't surprised, her uncle was there the night she was found and the auror probably warned her that there would be a werewolf at school. That was how Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott knew, as Susan's Aunt Amelia was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Lupin!" Draco Malfoy, pain that he was, and his goons came loudly into the Great Hall, not bothering to lead up to his point. "We get that you can't do any better, but you don't bring your boyfriends where they don't belong!"

"Why not? You do?" She replied, much to the amusement of both the twins and the rest of the hall.

His face reddened and he sneered. "I refuse to sit with your Weasels!"

"Then don't. I don't care, and I don't hear anyone else complaining!"

And they weren't. The Twins were the only Gryffindors (before Hermione's study group) that didn't treat the Slytherins any differently than they treated anyone else. If anything, they treated them _better_ out of respect for the ambitious kids that would one day become politicians, Ministers of Magic, and the parents of the richer children that would be running in and out of the joke shop they planned to open. Hermione also had it in very good authority that they had nearly been Slytherins themselves, or even Ravenclaw because of their knack for experimenting with things. It just suited them better to be Gryffindors—the true sign of a Slytherin.

Throughout the school, Gryffindors tended to be the least respected among the four houses because of a lot of _Holier-than-thou_ attitudes and tendencies to idiocy. The Noble and Brave usually didn't show itself during their school years, but later, once they'd found their professions. During their school years, they were every bit of what they built the Slytherins up to be, not including those who dared to defy the house's status quo.

This year, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley were the problematic first years, actively seeking out conflict and causing issues. Hermione was certain that it would've been much worse had Harry, another of those who definitely should've been a Slytherin, hadn't been there to keep his soon-to-be-ex-best-friend out of trouble. He was smart, clever, sneaky, and (apparently unbeknownst to himself) rich beyond belief. His deductive reasoning skills were off the charts and when he tried, he excelled in everything, even potions once Hermione got Snape off his back.

Neville Longbottom was much the same; a veritable sea of power and potential, untapped because of his grandmother's insistence upon the use of a wand that didn't properly suit him and lifetime of being called a pathetic squib and living in his parent's shadow.

Lack of confidence was the bane of magic; but lack of the ability to do _proper_ magic was the bane of self-confidence.

The pair, bonding over extremely close birthdays and lack of proper home life, were good influences on each other. Harry was encouraging and stood up for himself and anyone around him, and Neville just needed to be told that he wasn't as bad as he thought he was. Amelia Bones, Hannah Abbott, Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis, Millicent Bulstrode, and Padma Patil along with Neville and Harry, led the first years in grades, power, and in some cases, wealth.

They were quickly becoming a force to be reckoned with and Hermione was going to enjoy sitting back to watch the light show when they decided to take over the world.

But back to the point; the fact that the tables were meant for specific houses was only meant for feasts and special occasions and things and there weren't really any rules to back any sort of segregation during the regular school meals. This meant that, the first time Harry and Neville went to sit with Padma at the Ravenclaw table, there wasn't anything to stop them. Once the rest of Hermione's study group and a few others realized that they weren't going to be hanged for sitting with their friends, there was a sudden flurry of motion as a good thirty students suddenly decided to switch tables, and nobody could do anything about it. Of course, there were a few bigots per year—the equivalents of Draco and Ron, though the houses varied—that made a bit of a fuss at first, but soon found themselves on the receiving end of one of Dumbledore's disapproving glares, which quickly stopped any arguments on most parts.

All except for Draco Malfoy.

Self-important little Draco Malfoy had not been able to swallow his pride and allow this little bit of interhouse friendship and decided to do everything in his power to ruin it. His father had heard about it, but as he was the only person on the board of governors who objected, _and_ there was nothing about keeping the houses separate in the charter, his objection was overruled.

Draco was still sore about it and did his best to increase tension between houses. Hermione had her own suspicions that his aversion to the whole situation and more specifically the Weasleys was due to his obvious crush on Daphne Greengrass, who currently held a conversation about Transfiguration theory over at the Gryffindor table with Charlie Weasley, Tonks, and several Ravenclaws who'd overheard the conversation that Daphne herself had begun with a question to Tonks about her Metamorphmagus abilities and how they differed from normal self-transfiguration.

Hermione, realizing that she wouldn't be able to hold them back much longer, gave an exasperated sigh and whispered, "Veto rescinded," to the Weasley twins.

The results were anticlimactic for the moment, as the pair exchanged wide, terrifyingly manic grins, kissed her simultaneously on the cheeks, got up and left to plan Malfoy's demise.

Draco paled, realizing his mistake in insulting the notoriously genius pranksters.

Hermione grinned and gestured for her friends to follow her from the Great Hall to hear an explanation of exactly _what_ she had just decided to unleash upon the school.

Most of the professors, who had all closely watched the exchange, couldn't decide whether to groan or applaud.

Snape groaned, knowing his godson would come whining to him.

Dumbledore applauded.


	4. Of course, there was also

Over the last several years, the Lupin family had taught the twins about tactics, especially in regard to pranking. They hadn't realized just how much they hadn't known until Remus sat them down and Hermione explain exactly what they were doing wrong.

Her first point had been their choices in targets. While they loved pranking their family members, she pointed out that, though funny, their pranks got tiresome to the targets after a while if they didn't deviate from their usual patterns. They also became hurtful if they got someone too many consecutive times and bullying once they started. The animosity between Remus and Snape was explained, and more out of horror at the idea of creating _another one_ , the twins apologized to Percy and Ron and became more careful about it.

There was a slew of other things discussed, including careful documentation of their experiments in a notebook nobody else could read without permission, what qualifies as a _hurtful_ prank, _funny_ prank, and _revenge_ prank, which pranks to take credit for, advertising, setting up a business plan as soon as possible (even though they were only nine and a half at the time), and finally; pranking without actually pranking, subtlety and how to use psychological warfare to their advantage.

Basically, the Lupin Pack taught them how to screw with people's heads, and how to maneuver around the law and other people so they couldn't get in trouble for things (in addition to things like extra potions with the resident Potions Master, Lisa, and wandless magic lessons with Hermione and the other kids, weekly business meetings with one of the older werewolves in the pack who was effectively their economics teacher).

In essence, the Lupins brought out a Slytherin side in the twins that everyone knew they had but hadn't nurtured.

This all became fairly obvious fairly quickly, and even now the twins tended to stick to what was good for business—after all, it would one day be their (and Hermione's if they had any say in their combined conscience's involvement in their plans) livelihood. However, when it came to defending their (Hermione's) honor, they tended to fall back into the grey areas of morality again. Usually, Hermione's word was enough to hold them back, but Malfoy had been toeing that line just a _bit_ too long.

So when Lecture Immunity was given, Fred and George threw themselves into planning what would later become famous as their Second Greatest Prank in all their time at Hogwarts, and one of two that they took full credit for because there were no rules against it: over the course of the next school year, the twins would make Draco Malfoy so paranoid that Mad-eye Moody would (somewhat reluctantly) complement his CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

HJLHJLHJLHJLHJLHJLJHLHJL

 _16 October, 1991_

 _Hello Remus,_

 _Sorry it's been so long since I last wrote, but I've been trying to reign in the twins a bit. Ever since the feast Draco Malfoy has been attempting to insult the three of us wherever he can. Whenever the twins sit with me, he makes fun of them. I made a deal with them at the beginning of October that if he insulted them three more times, I would give them free reign until Christmas._

 _(I realize it was a bad idea, but it was six in the morning on a full moon and I just wanted them to shut up so I could sleep. Speaking of which, when we get home I'll have to properly introduce Padfoot to Fido and Gorgon.)_

 _Anyway, the twins have reached a new level of evil. We never should've taught them subtlety, they're going to drive Draco insane. First, they made up a spell that will change your hair color but not be visible in a mirror. The first week, they've literally just made his hair darker and darker every time they see him and now he's almost full on Ginger, but he doesn't believe it, which has been hilarious. Then, they got a couple house elves to follow him invisibly and make weird noises when nobody else is around. They also found a way into the Slytherin common room and charmed everything to move away when Draco tries to use it. Now they've made up a potion that makes weird creatures (they got inspiration from Luna and her drawings of Nargles and Wrackspurts) appear in your peripheral vision when you turn away from something. I helped test it and it's really disconcerting. They plan on using it on Draco any day now. I don't want to say I'm looking forward to it, but…_

 _How is everyone at home? Have you gotten up the nerve to ask Lisa out yet? You've been pining for years man, and you're not getting any younger. Not to mention Nathan and the Baby Twins adore us and you don't have your "I'm dangerous I could kill all of you" excuse because they're wolves too, AND part of the pack for that matter, so if you haven't asked her by Christmas I'm doing it for you and convincing the twins to help me._

 _Which reminds me, could they stay over during winter break? Their mum and dad are going to Romania to visit Charlie, so all of them were going to stay at school, and Merlin knows what those boys could get up to while I'm gone. Plus, Daeva's gotten used to them on moons._

 _Love you lots,_

 _HayJay_

HJLHJLHJLHJLHJLHJLJHLHJL

Madame Pomfrey found them several hours after the last full moon before Christmas, Hermione curled up under an old blanket and snuggled between two massive orange dogs on the ancient double bed in the Shrieking Shack, snoring and drooling and easily tying with James, Remus, and Sirius after that one time their sixth year. Without waking any of them, she checked for injuries and left pajamas for Hermione at the end of the bed with the customary half-ton of chocolate on a conjured plate on the nightside table, for once leaving the trio to wake on their own.

As had become usual after full moons, the twins and Hermione weren't seen until lunch, and then they were connected at the hip. During lunch, Fred and George would keep filling her plate as she ravenously (but always politely) burned through serving after serving, glaring daggers at anyone who looked like they might say something, distracting everyone so much that they didn't notice Harry (who'd taken to life without a wand like a fish to water after she'd let him borrow her notes) wandlessly pour a bit of their newest potion into Malfoy's pumpkin juice.

When everyone had gone back to ignoring them, Hermione cocked an eyebrow at George, the Potions prodigy of the pair and raised and eyebrow.

He nodded.

She rolled her eyes.

"You're going to drive him insane, you know."

They both laughed.

"Well we're going to need _some_ practice before we move on to the Minister—" Fred explained with a smirk.

"And we can't very well forget Fudgies' Toadie." George mirrored.

"I guess I'll just have to stick around and make sure you two don't get arrested then."

"It'll be quite a while before you'd be able to leave you know—"

"Yeah, I don't see us slowing down any time soon—"

"Or ever, really."

She shrugged. "I've no plans. Forever isn't _that_ long, after all."

All three then proceeded to decide exactly what Hermione's job would be when they opened their joke shop and how they would split the company. Meanwhile, Cloetta sat slack-jawed across the table.

"Did they just _propose?_ " She asked Francis, once she found the words.

"It might've been a business proposition..." He looked a bit stunned himself.

"And she said yes?"

"I think that's what happened."

"It's happened before," Alfredia spoke up, "I think Hermione's pretty much accepted that She's always going to be keeping them from doing anything _too_ dramatic, and they've accepted that they need her to. There's probably more to it—some vice of Hermione's that they've found a way to counteract so it's a more symbiotic relationship, but I haven't the faintest what that might be."

Everyone around (bar Hermione and the twins) stared at her for a moment, then seemed to accept it and went back to eating their breakfasts.

Meanwhile, a bit down the table, Malfoy sprouted wings. And horns. And…was that a trench coat?

Snape banged his head on the table, cursing his whiney godson for provoking the Weasley twins, and cursing the Weasley twins for giving his godson more to whine about.


End file.
